


Footlights

by Polomonkey



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Actors, Bisexuality, Bullying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Humor, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Piercings, Pining, Romance, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Theatre
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-09-06 15:17:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8757976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Polomonkey/pseuds/Polomonkey
Summary: Arthur hasn't set foot in a theatre since he left drama school but when Gwen offers him a chance to star in her new production, he can't say no. Especially when his co-star Merlin turns out to be both infuriating and infuriatingly gorgeous...





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SlantedKnitting](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlantedKnitting/gifts).



> SlantedKnitting, I was so excited to get you as my giftee, especially as it gave me a chance to read all of your wonderful fics! After going through several ideas, I decided to try one that wasn't quite on your prompts list but was a little inspired by your lovely fic 'By the Way You Dance (I Knew It Was You)'. I crammed in as many of your likes as I could and I really really hope you enjoy it! Happy Holidays!
> 
> Also, many thanks to the mods for running this awesome fest!
> 
> Warnings: spoilers for Mojo, brief description of past bullying. This fic contains some images, if anyone has accessibility problems and is unable to see them, please let me know and I'll sort something out for you.

“You what?” Arthur said loudly.

“Close your mouth, you’ll catch flies,” came Morgana’s disembodied voice, beyond the view of the webcam. Arthur watched as Gwen made a shooing gesture to her left.

“Ignore your horrible sister. I know it’s a bit out of nowhere.”

Arthur massaged his temples. It was 7am in L.A. and he was still half-asleep. Gwen and Morgana never usually Skyped him this early. But Gwen had news that “just couldn’t wait” and now he was figuring out why she had been so impatient.

“Well, yeah, like… _you’re_ directing Mojo? An all-male play? Written by a male writer? Literally all about men being men?”

Gwen shrugged.

“I’m as surprised as you are.”

“And you want me to play the lead?”

It sounded even more ridiculous once Arthur had said it out loud. He wasn’t a theatre actor. He hadn’t lived in England for four years now. His career was in L.A., as was his entire life.

“Yes,” Gwen said simply. “I want you to play the lead.”

“You do have to audition, big shot,” Morgana drawled, finally coming into view. “Don’t think your fancy Hollywood ways will fly back here in Blighty.”

“You’re both mad,” Arthur said. “I… is this a joke? I’m a film and television actor. I do bit parts and the occasional second male lead, if I get lucky.”

“That’s not all you can do,” Gwen said firmly.

“You’re just saying that ‘cause you’re my friend-”

“No,” Gwen cut him off. “I’ve directed, what, eight plays in the last six years?”

“Nine!” Morgana chimed in.

“Nine plays. Have I ever asked you to audition for one before?”

“No…” Arthur said, frowning.

“No, because you weren’t right for any of those parts. But you’re right for this one. This isn’t a pity call, Arthur. I’m asking you because I think you could be really good.”

“I… I’d have to move back to London.”

“Well, it’d be a hell of a commute otherwise,” Morgana said.

Arthur made a face at her.

“My whole life is here.”

“I know. Don’t decide right now. Go download the play on your Kindle and have a read. See what you think.”

Gwen gave him a reassuring smile and it had the same effect on him that it always did – cutting through his bravado to how he felt underneath.

“I haven’t been near a play since Midsummer,” he said quietly.

Gwen’s smile didn’t fade, though her eyes turned a little sad.

“I know, love. But I think maybe… it’s time to get back on the horse?”

And somehow Arthur found himself promising her he’d consider it.

 

His plans for that day went out of the window. He sacked off the gym, cancelled lunch with his friends, and went straight for his Kindle. More than anything, he wanted to prove he was the wrong fit for this, that there was no way he could even consider it.

He realised he was screwed at about the same time he started reading Baby’s lines out loud.

It was such a hard part. Baby was mercurial, damaged, violent, angry, vulnerable. Arthur had been playing rookie cops and rom-com best friends for the past four years. He hadn’t done acting like this in a long time.

Except maybe his last job, on a miniseries called Draywood. It had been a critical success and a commercial failure; getting trounced by the Kardashians in the ratings. But Arthur had been proud of it. It was an intricate political thriller and he had played a journalist assisting the female lead in uncovering a conspiracy. The script had been tight, the direction sharp, the characters believable. Arthur had only been on set four weeks but he’d felt something while shooting -  a kind of longing to do parts like this more often, to sink his teeth into something more substantial.

Baby was more substantial. Gwen was a brilliant director; Arthur knew she would put an incredible production together. He’d be onstage at last, for the first time since he left drama school.

But he’d be the lead. He’d be carrying the whole thing. It’d be his fault if it went wrong, if he couldn’t hack it, if it all fell apart like last time…

Arthur shivered, throwing his Kindle down on the bed. He couldn’t do this.

He texted Mithian before he went to bed that night, telling her about Gwen’s offer and asking her to meet him for brunch the next day. He wasn’t going to take this part. And he needed to hear from someone else that he was making the right choice.

 

***

 

Mithian was already perched in a booth when he arrived, menu open. He knew what she would order because it was always the same – Eggs Benedict and a mango smoothie. They used to eat here almost every week, when they were together.

“Arthur!”

Mithian got to her feet and he gave her a hug. She smelt like she was wearing a different perfume than usual and he idly wondered if her new boyfriend had bought it for her.

It wasn’t a jealous thought. They had spent two happy years together before the night three months ago when they had sat under the stars on Arthur’s deck and talked it all out. About how they loved each other very much, but they just weren’t _in love_ anymore.

It had been the most amicable a breakup could possibly be and yet Arthur still missed her. Not romantically, but because she was the best friend he’d ever had in L.A. and the city seemed lonely without her by his side.

Perhaps there was a hint of that in his face because she gave him a crooked smile after they ordered.

“You’ve already decided, haven’t you?”

“What?”

“I can tell. You’re going, aren’t you?”

He opened his mouth to protest that he hadn’t made his mind up yet, but the words died in his throat. He wanted to do it. He wanted to give the theatre another try. He wanted to go home.

“How do you always do that?” he said.

“I’m a genius.”

“And so modest about it.”

They bantered back and forth until the food arrived, falling into familiar patterns. They knew each other so well by now. Enough that Arthur could be truly honest with her.

“I’m nervous,” he admitted, pushing his plate of pancakes away.

“Makes sense.”

Mithian leaned across the table to briefly touch his hand.

“But you should go. It’s the right thing for you.”

“I made a life here…”

“You never made a home though,” Mithian said earnestly, and then laughed when Arthur wrinkled his nose.

“What?”

“You’re just so… Californian sometimes.”

“Is that supposed to be an insult, coming from the uptight Brit?”

He threw a blueberry at her and she caught it neatly in her mouth.

“What if I hate it and I want to come back?”

“Then you’ll come back. You’re not getting on the last chopper out of Saigon, Arthur, jeez.”

“But what if-”

“Oh my God. No more what ifs. If you stay, it’s fine. If you go, it’s fine. If you go then come back, it’s fine. It’s seriously all fine.”

Arthur looked past Mithian and out onto the street. The sun was streaming down, roller-bladers whizzing by, people laughing and walking along arm in arm.

“I must be mad to leave all this for rainy London,” he muttered.

“That’s you. Arthur Pendragon, mad as a hatter.”

“You’ll come visit me?”

Mithian smiled.

“I’ll be on the front row on opening night, giving you a standing ovation when you walk out like the uncouth American I am.”

“Sounds amazing,” Arthur said wryly. Then: “I’ll miss you.”

“Yes you will, I’m exceptional,” Mithian deadpanned. “Now finish your pancakes. We need to get you packed.”

 

***

 

Three weeks later, Arthur was boarding a plane to London.

Leaving L.A. had been surprisingly smooth in the end. Mithian had found a friend to take over the lease on Arthur’s apartment, and he had sorted accommodation for himself in London too. Leon had been positively giddy to hear Arthur was coming home at last and gave the poor lodger his one month notice so Arthur could reclaim his old room.

“Should I feel bad?”

“Nah, he’s been playing Skrillex at 3am and smoking out the window so he knew he was on his last warning,” Leon said heartily. “Don’t worry, I’ll Febreze his room for you!”

Sure enough, the room did smell rather cloyingly of ‘summer flowers’ when Arthur hefted down his suitcases but he couldn’t care less. He and Leon shared a long, manly hug, and then sat down with a case of Corona to discuss their lives. They’d been Skyping fairly regularly so there was no major news to report. Leon was still happily loved up with his girlfriend Elena and working at a children’s charity in Morden. He already knew about Arthur and Mithian’s breakup so Arthur filled him in on Mojo instead. He’d had his audition and somehow Gwen still wanted him, so Arthur had said yes before he could change his mind. He’d been agonising about it ever since.

“I might be making the biggest mistake of my life.”

“I forgot how much of a drama queen you are! Yes, ‘actor takes fulfilling role in well regarded play’, I can see how that might spell career suicide for you.”

Arthur rolled his eyes but he did find the knot in his stomach easing slightly. This was what he loved about Leon. They’d known each other since they were five years old and nowadays he was the only close friend Arthur had who wasn’t somehow connected with acting. He was out of the industry, happily oblivious to the ups and downs of actors and agents and publicists. Whenever Arthur got too caught up in the trappings of the profession, Leon brought him back down to earth. Arthur really needed that. If he’d lived with other actors through drama school, he would probably have gone insane. He had loved his course mates but there would always be that element of competition there. Whereas Leon couldn’t care less and always made sure to tell Arthur so when he was getting too wrapped up in the bubble.

“Yeah, well, my last stage job didn’t go so great, did it?”

Leon sighed a little and passed over another beer.

“Old bullshit, mate. You gonna let old bullshit back in to your shiny new life?”

Arthur took a long gulp.

“I guess not.”

“Once more with feeling, Pendragon.”

“NO!” Arthur roared and Leon nearly fell off his chair. “Happy now?”

“Got a burst eardrum, but yeah mate, I’m happy. You know why? You’re gonna crush this.”

 

[ ](http://imgur.com/AV83LD1)

Arthur tried to summon up some of Leon’s optimism as he stood outside the Dragon Theatre on the first day of rehearsal. He’d already met some of the crew and Gwen had introduced him to her assistant director Freya, a petite brunette with a half shaved head and an earful of piercings. She’d been clever and gobby and he’d liked her immediately.

Meeting his cast mates was a more intimidating prospect. Gwen had already filled him in on who was who over lunch at hers and Morgana’s flat.

“Aglain Evershot’s in for Mickey, you’ll recognise him when you see him. Total stalwart character actor, always popping up in Poirot and Lewis and Holby and all that. We’ve got a guy called Will Brooks for Potts, mainly done theatre so far and a bit of telly. He’s good – sort of wired and antsy, lots of nervous energy. We’ve plucked Silver Johnny right out of drama school, sweet kid called Mordred Spracknell. Baby face, very angelic, got good hair for a quiff.”

“Am I quiffing up too?”

“Damn right you are,” Gwen said, giving Arthur’s face a little smush. “You’re gonna look adorable.”

“I’m meant to be sexy and dangerous,” Arthur pointed out.

“Literally no one said Baby was sexy, Arthur. Why would I have cast you if he was?”

“Oh, ha bloody ha. Go on then. That’s Potts and Mickey and Johnny…”

“Oh yes! Gwaine Greene for Sweets. You don’t need telling who that is.”

Arthur didn’t. Gwaine Greene was currently star of a hugely successful period drama set in 1920s Ireland called High Hopes. Arthur had never seen the show but he was aware of the oft reprinted publicity shot showing Greene lounging naked in a meadow.

“Did a damn good audition and I don’t hate the fact that he’s bringing a pretty hefty fan base with him. So at least we can guarantee to sell _some_ tickets.”

“As if people don’t already flock to see your shows, woman. Okay, so that’s five of us…”

“Ah, Skinny is my real coup. I managed to catch Merlin Emrys on the one day of the year he wasn’t performing in some other play and persuade him to audition.”

“Never heard of him.”

“‘Cause you’re out of the theatre loop, dear. He’s brilliant. Went to Royal Welsh with Will Brooks actually, they’re old friends. Did Konstantin in the National’s Seagull straight after graduating, then got nabbed for Prince Hal at the Globe, you know that Carrie Cracknell one with all the feathers? Then a load of new writing and he’s just come fresh from Lucy Prebble’s latest at the Royal Court.”

“Didn’t that transfer to the West End?”

“Yeah but he didn’t go with it because he made some commitment to do a mate’s show in Edinburgh. He literally just got back from Scotland two days ago.”

“Alright I get it; he’s sickeningly talented and brilliantly humble. I hate him already.”

“Good,” Gwen said cheerfully. “Lots of lovely onstage tension between Baby and Skinny, then.”

Arthur was joking about hating him, but he couldn’t help but feel slightly nervous. Theatre actors didn’t always think a lot of screen actors. If this Emrys had an attitude about Arthur being mainstream…

“Stop thinking so loud, I know you too well,” Gwen said. “He’s not some indie snob who’s gonna rib you for doing Death Clock III, even if you fully deserve to be ribbed.”

“Oh good, are we making fun of Death Clock?” Morgana said, wandering into the kitchen. She cleared her throat dramatically.

“It’s time… TO DIE.”

“Looks like your clock… JUST STOPPED,” Gwen said, in a terrible American accent.

“Death has found you… JUST IN TIME.”

“It wasn’t that bad!” Arthur protested and lunch rather descended into chaos after that. It did a good job of distracting him from the impending rehearsals, although he did look the rest of the cast up when he got home.

It was all pretty much as Gwen had said, and Arthur rather rapidly exited out of the few play reviews that came up when he Googled Merlin Emrys, as they were the kind of peons of praise that did not help Arthur’s self-esteem at all.

He did find something thought provoking on Emrys’ Wikipedia page though. A short note under the personal life section that said ‘Emrys is openly gay’ and a link to an article at the bottom. Curious, he read the interview but it had been very much a side note, casually mentioned by Emrys in conversation with the journalist.

Now this was something that Arthur envied.

It wasn’t that he wasn’t out as bisexual. Everyone who mattered knew, his dad and sister, his friends, Mithian, his agency. And yet, he was pretty sure the general public had no idea. His American agent Ethan had been very much of the ‘don’t talk about your personal life to the press at all’ ilk but Arthur suspected he didn’t hammer that particular message as hard to his straight clients.

But Arthur would be a hypocrite for castigating Ethan, because it wasn’t like he’d ever overridden him. He’d promised himself he’d never lie if he was asked outright in an interview, but so far he just hadn’t been. He also hadn’t dated a man since he’d been in L.A., so no one really had any occasion to ask. Arthur knew in his heart of hearts that not saying was a bit of a cop out, an evasion at best and a lie of omission at worst. But he just hadn’t been quite brave enough to find out if Ethan’s warning was true; that the more the public knew about an actor, the more they dug their claws in.

All of that was at the back of his mind as he stood outside the rehearsal room on the first day, summoning up the nerve to open the door. Luckily Gwen showed up to escort him inside, astutely pushing him straight into the path of Gwaine Greene before he had time to chicken out and retreat to a corner. Gwaine turned out to be as good looking as his regular appearances in Heat magazine’s Torso of the Week suggested. He gave Arthur an enthusiastic greeting, as though they were long lost friends, and Arthur couldn’t help but warm to that. He’d already earmarked Gwaine as a potential ally in the event of any theatre snobbery going on about television actors.

Not that there seemed to be much of that in evidence. Will Brooks was slightly short in his greeting but in general he seemed a little more reserved than the others. Aglain Evershot was warm and friendly, offering Arthur a firm handshake. He had the kind of easy self-assurance that came with years in the industry and Arthur made a mental note to come to him with any stage newbie questions. He didn’t look like the judgemental type.

Mordred Spracknell was almost the exact opposite of self-assured, practically radiating nervous energy as he scuttled up to Arthur’s side with a muttered hello.

“I’ve seen all your films,” he suddenly burst out and then flushed.

“I don’t do refunds,” Arthur said and Gwaine laughed loudly, clapping him on the back. Mordred relaxed slightly.

“No, they were really good,” he said earnestly.

“I don’t think I have the fan base Gwaine has,” Arthur said, which turned out to be an effective deflection, as Gwaine launched into some rambling tale of a massive apple cake some fans had sneaked onto the set of High Hopes.

He had barely reached the end when Gwen appeared at Arthur’s side.

“Come and meet Merlin,” she said and Arthur turned to see the final cast member had just slipped into the room.

Arthur had Googled Merlin, he’d Googled everyone in fact, but Merlin was the one who looked most different from his pictures. More animated, somehow, in person. Better looking too, despite his wearing a garish purple scarf and being somewhat thinner than he’d been in his last publicity photos.

“Merlin, this is Arthur,” Gwen said and Arthur stuck out his hand.

“Nice to meet you,” he said, slightly awkward for some reason.

Merlin took his proffered hand.

“Same, baby.”

Arthur blinked. Did Merlin normally call his cast mates baby? Could it be a theatrical tradition? Or was this the world’s most ill-advised seduction attempt?

Merlin looked confused by Arthur’s sudden speechlessness and then his face creased in horror.

“No, I meant – you’re playing Baby, I wasn’t calling you-”

“Oh. Ohhh.”

Arthur nearly died of relief.

“I’m not in the habit of giving people I’ve just met nicknames, I promise,” Merlin said quickly.

“No, course. Although I guess Skinny would be quite a good nickname for you, ‘cause you’re, you know…”

Oh God, why had he started this sentence and where was it going to end?

Merlin’s lips tightened.

“Right. Okay. I’d prefer Merlin so…” he said coolly.

He clearly thought Arthur was taking the piss out of him. Tongue tied, Arthur tried to think of something clever to say, anything that might repair this epic train wreck of a conversation.

But nothing came to mind so he just stood there like a particularly awkward lemon until Gwen cleared her throat.

“Arthur, let me introduce you to the SM.”

She led him away. He glanced back when they reached the door, to see Merlin had joined Will and the two of them were whispering furiously.

“That was horrendous.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Gwen said kindly.

“You’re kidding, right? Gwen, that was like the Donald Trump of introductions; bad in ways previously not suspected to be possible.”

Gwen snorted.

“It’s fine. Merlin’s a nice guy, he’ll get over it.”

But he didn’t.

Well maybe that was pushing it, Merlin was never exactly rude. Not like Will, who had clearly taken against Arthur in a massive way and did a surprisingly poor job of concealing his feelings for a professional actor. By contrast Merlin was scrupulously polite, but frostily so, as though Arthur was his crazy racist neighbour and Merlin just wanted to get their garden fence interactions over with as quickly as possible.

It didn’t matter so much at the beginning of rehearsals, when they were mainly focussed on line runs and blocking. But when they actually started to flesh out the scenes a little more, it became noticeable.

Baby and Skinny spent a lot of time interacting onstage. They both had the lines down pat, both knew where to move and what to do. There was nothing wrong with the acting, per se. But it was lifeless. Arthur could feel it. There was no onstage spark between them, nothing to get an audience excited.

Gwen clearly knew it too because she split the cast in the second week of rehearsal. Gwaine and Will and Aglain went with her to work on their scenes. Mordred went to a gym with the movement director to practice hanging upside for an extended period of time (something no one envied him for). And Freya took Arthur and Merlin off to pin down their relationship.

To Arthur’s surprise – Freya struck him as a very hands-on, physical type of director – she had them sit down on the floor in a little circle.

“Okay lads, let’s talk repressed homosexuality,” she said with a smirk.

“Wouldn’t know anything about it,” Merlin said dryly and Arthur would have laughed, if not for the fact he was avoiding Merlin’s eyes.

“Seriously. There’s a giant fucking elephant in the Atlantic Club and I want to hear your thoughts on it. Gwen and I discussed this a lot and we’re not gonna lead you by the nose. Tell us how you want to play it. We want to work up something natural between you.”

“You mean like…”

Arthur paused, because he actually wasn’t sure what Freya meant at all.

“Let’s start simple. Do you think Skinny’s in love with Baby?”

“Yes,” Merlin said at once. “Or… not love, exactly. He wants to be him and he wants to be respected by him but I think… I think there’s desire there too.”

“Right, desire. Good. What do you think, Arthur?”

Arthur thought for a moment.

“He… Skinny has this thing about role models, I guess? Like with Mickey and his Uncle Tommy and all that. He sticks close to stronger personalities than himself, like he’s looking for protection. Even though he knows Baby is unstable.”

“Yeah, I’d agree with that,” Merlin said. “He’s drawn to Baby, even though he never gets anything but abuse. It’s like… masochistic, or something. I feel like there’s something sexual going on underneath.”

“And what about Baby? Is he in love with Skinny?”

“No,” Arthur said. “I don’t think he’s capable of love, really. Or not healthy love. Baby’s love is… possessive. Ownership. Like with Silver Johnny at the end. You just get this sense he’s going to ruin this kid.”

“Does he want to fuck Skinny though?” Freya said bluntly.

Arthur glanced at Merlin, almost compulsively.

“Maybe. But only on his terms. Like, I don’t know… violent. Cruel.”

“You don’t think he’s capable of tenderness?” Freya asked.

“I… I don’t think he knows how,” Arthur said. “Because he never experienced sex or love that wasn’t abusive.”

“Right. His past, that’s important,” Freya said. “So what do Skinny and Baby have in common?”

“No dad,” Merlin said. “Ezra’s dead and it sounds like Skinny’s dad left or died.”

“Good, what else?”

To Arthur’s surprise, he jumped in.

“I think Baby can see himself in Skinny. But, like… he doesn’t like it? Because he thinks Skinny’s a victim and that’s something he never wants to be again himself. So he picks on Skinny, because then he gets to be the victimiser, right? And no one can hurt him.”

He glanced at Merlin to see the other man nodding thoughtfully.

“That makes sense.”

They didn’t get on their feet for another couple of hours, just sat and talked. Arthur was surprised at how easily the discussion flowed when he got into it. It was helpful to have Merlin there to unpack some of the things he’d been thinking about the play, to see if their interpretations could gel together.

In the afternoon, Freya got them up on their feet and improvising. They did a scene where Baby shows up to embarrass Skinny in the club, and another where they imagined the events leading up to the card game fight. Perhaps the most interesting one they tried was when Freya asked them to imagine a moment of truthfulness between the two of them, of vulnerability. It wasn’t much of a scene, just the two of them talking in the club after hours, but Arthur realised he was able to tap into something he hadn’t felt in the character of Baby before, a vein of tenderness.

Freya let them go at seven, saying that was enough for one day. Arthur found himself lingering as he gathered together his things. Freya was already gone but Merlin was still packing up. Arthur had a sense they’d turned a corner today somehow, like they’d actually interacted properly. It had been enjoyable. He didn’t want to show up to rehearsal tomorrow and be back to the same polite distance as before.

“That was, um, interesting. What you said before about Skinny and the trousers.”

Merlin turned, looking surprised to be addressed.

“Oh. Thanks. I mean, I was kind of just bouncing off your ideas about the role models.”

He gave Arthur a tentative smile and Arthur returned it.

“That was good today. I feel like we sort of cracked it a bit.”

“Yeah, same,” Merlin said. “I think if we can keep that same energy, like the kind of frisson thing between them…”

“It could be really great,” Arthur nodded.

There was a pause and then Merlin gestured.

“I meant to say. Nice t-shirt.”

Arthur looked down. He had pulled on his ancient Little Shop of Horrors t-shirt from drama school that morning, he’d found it lurking at the back of Leon’s closet when he was stealing socks.

(“Aw Leon, did you sniff it when you missed me?”

“More like I used it to clean the toilet while you were away.”)

“We did it at LAMDA. I was the evil dentist.”

Merlin grinned.

“Of course you were. We did Cabaret at Royal Welsh. I was a go-go dancer.”

“Typecast again, eh?” Arthur said and Merlin let out a wonderful snort of a laugh.

“It’s a shame you’re the only one who gets to dance in this. I’ve really got some moves.”

“Wanna swap parts?”

“Ooh, yes please. I’ll wear the sparkly jacket and do the dancing and you can go on my stupid diet.”

“You’re on a diet?” Arthur said, surprised. “Did Gwen ask you to-”

“God no, she keeps trying to feed me up. But, like, he’s called Skinny for a reason, right? And I put on a bit of muscle for my last play and it made me look older so… Skinny’s only meant to be about twenty two, I reckon.”

“How old are you?”

“Twenty seven. You?”

“Same, but Gwen thinks Baby is twenty six so I should be okay.”

Arthur couldn’t help but frown a tiny bit at the thought of Merlin being on a diet for this, he didn’t look like he had weight to lose. But he knew better than to put his foot in it like he did the first time they met.

Merlin seemed to read his expression however.

“Don’t look so worried! My best friend Lance is a nutritionist; he made me a diet plan and everything. I’m not gonna lose any more than this.”

“Hey, it’s none of my business-”

“Arthur.”

Merlin’s smile was disarming.

“We got off on the wrong foot. I was a bit oversensitive. First day nerves, and all that. You really don’t have to watch what you say around me.”

“I’m really sorry about that,” Arthur said, awkward all over again. “My foot doesn’t normally live in my mouth.”

“I had just called you baby, to be fair.”

“For a second, I thought it was some theatrical tradition I’d never heard of,” Arthur blurted out.

Merlin laughed at that, loud and genuine.

“I think that’s luv. Definitely heard Aglain throwing that one around.”

“I don’t think I can pull luv off,” Arthur said.

“Yeah, it sounds a bit dirty coming from you.”

Arthur blushed and Merlin laughed again.

“Okay, I’m leaving before we have another awkward moment. See you tomorrow, Arthur.”

“Bye,” Arthur said, watching Merlin go.

Perhaps awful first impressions didn’t have to last forever after all. Strangely buoyed up, Arthur grabbed his things and hurried off home.

 

***

 

Things were much better at rehearsals after that. Will still seemed to vaguely dislike Arthur but he kept the hostility to a minimum and Arthur found himself able to live with it. He hadn’t realised how big a difference it would make to be on good terms with Merlin. They were finally clicking in their scenes, the whole cast stepping up their game in response, and Arthur discovered he was really beginning to like the person Merlin was offstage too. He was clearly dripping with talent but incredibly modest about it – Arthur never would have known Merlin had won an Olivier if Will hadn’t been teasing him about it. He was friendly and patient, particularly when Mordred wanted to talk acting tips or ask for a bit of general advice about the big, bad, post-drama school world. And he was funny too - a quick, sharp sense of humour that often had Arthur cracking up in between scene runs (and sometimes in scenes too, which earned him a very stern look from Gwen and a ream of good natured verbal abuse from Freya).

Leon didn’t comment when Arthur’s post rehearsal conversation changed from ‘This Emrys guy is pissing me off’ to ‘Actually Merlin’s not such a bad sort’. It was only after the third story in a row that Arthur had told about Merlin ad libbing that Leon raised a questioning eyebrow.

“Last week you were telling me this guy annoyed the hell out of you.”

“Yeah, well, he’s actually kind of cool,” Arthur admitted.

“Sure you weren’t just pulling his pigtails before, mate?” Leon said knowingly.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard. I mean, he’s gay, right? I read that interview you showed me.”

“That is so… you’re way off base. He’s just a mate. Colleague, not even a mate. A matey colleague. He’s just- oh, shut up.”

Leon said no more about it, although his smirk was supremely irritating. He was wrong, of course, because that wasn’t the vibe with Merlin at all. He was just a good bloke to hang out with, and a bloody fantastic actor. Arthur might have a crush on his talent, but nothing else.

Arthur felt entirely secure in this belief until a pub night three weeks into rehearsal. Aglain had cried off early (“some of us are old and have small children who love to wake us up at 6am every day”) but the rest of the cast had camped out in the nearby Red Lion to decompress after a long and physical day with the movement director.

Conversation was general at first; they hadn’t had much chance to socialise outside of the theatre together. When Arthur came back from getting a round in, however, the talk had turned to sex. Or failed attempts at sex, to be more specific. Gwaine was seemingly just finishing a raucous story about getting bitten by a girl’s dog halfway through sex.

“The worse thing was, she had no sympathy! Kept cooing over the bloody spaniel and telling me off for frightening it.”

“To be fair, I bet your sex faces are frightening,” Will said and everyone laughed.

“You can talk, Will.”

Merlin leaned in conspiratorially.

“We shared a house all through drama school. There were nights when I thought a cat was being tortured in his room.”

There was a chorus of jeers and Will scoffed.

“You really wanna play this game, Emrys? Have you got any _fatherly_ stories to share, by any chance?”

Merlin turned pink.

“No,” he said but Gwaine and Mordred were already clamouring for more.

“Alright, alright.”

Merlin took a huge gulp of his pint.

“There may have been a recent incident with a guy who kept calling me, er, daddy. In bed.”

“Daddy!” Gwaine crowed.

“I know some people are into that but I am _not_ one of them,” Merlin said with a shudder. “I felt like I was committing a crime.”

“Was he way younger than you?” Mordred asked.

“No! Like two years! The logic alone was offensive.”

Arthur couldn’t join in the laughter. Something about Merlin’s story had put him on edge. He stared into his pint, trying to understand his sudden discomfort. It wasn’t some awful internalised homophobia, was it? No, definitely not that. Just the weirdness of the daddy thing? No, he’d heard weirder.

Arthur looked up to see Merlin giggling at some comment Will had made, eyes crinkled up and cheeks flushed. He looked younger like that, happy and unguarded and undeniably appealing…

 _Oh God._ Arthur gripped his pint glass so hard it nearly shattered. He wasn’t uneasy. He was _jealous_. Of the man that Merlin had slept with. Of _every_ man that Merlin had slept with that wasn’t him.

He liked Merlin. Leon had been right, the bastard. He’d tried to pass it off as an acting crush, that his admiration for Merlin stemmed purely from his onstage abilities. But he’d been fooling himself. He’d never mooned over Jim Broadbent’s bright blue eyes or Al Pacino’s perfectly mussed up hair. It wasn’t the actor Merlin that Arthur wanted to get closer to. It was the Merlin who wore silly scarves, who ate strange vegetarian lunches, who snorted when he laughed and stuck his tongue out when he concentrated. It was the Merlin who blushed when fans praised him and sang off-key musical numbers in the dressing room showers and-

“Arthur?”

He looked up to see the entire table staring at him expectantly.

“You’re up, mate,” Gwaine said heartily. “Worst sex fail.”

Arthur swallowed, tearing his mind back to the game with great difficulty. He mumbled out some story about him and Mithian trying to have sex in a hotel bathroom and breaking a sink, and luckily it seemed to satisfy everyone. The group moved on to a blushing Mordred but Arthur wasn’t listening. He sat quietly at the table, turning things over in his mind.

He liked Merlin. He really liked Merlin. In a way that he hadn’t liked anyone since he first met Mithian over two years ago. And that was kind of scary.

He was zoned out for a long time, lost in thought. When he tuned back in, it was just him and Merlin at the table.

“Earth to Arthur,” Merlin said, looking amused.

“Where’d they…”

“Mord’s in the loo, Gwaine and Will went to get a round. You okay there? You looked well out of it.”

“Bit tired,” Arthur squeaked out. “And, er, still processing all those stories.”

“Will’s sex life is disgusting, I learned that many years ago. As for the others… well, celibacy is starting to look like a very sensible option.”

“Already got that one covered,” Arthur said and then nearly bit his tongue out. What kind of way to impress Merlin was that?

Merlin seemed tickled though.

“Single, are you? Same here.”

“Yeah?” Arthur said, hating the way his pathetic heart lifted a little.

“Yeah. Was seeing a guy in Edinburgh but it wasn’t serious.”

Arthur nodded, mouth dry. He wanted to ask more, like who was this guy, what type did Merlin go for, would he ever date another actor…

He bit his lip, to stop anything too revealing coming out.

“He was very Scottish,” Merlin said at last. “To be honest… I’m not sure I understood what he was saying half the time.”

He caught Arthur’s eye and, as if on cue, they both began to laugh. Once they’d started it was hard to stop and they were still giggling like schoolboys when the others came back, much to Will’s irritation.

“What’s the joke?” he said, disgruntled.

“I was just imitating some of your sex noises for Arthur,” Merlin said innocently and then they were both off again.

Arthur carried the sound of Merlin’s laughter all the way home with him. By the time he stumbled into bed that night, his thoughts were full of Merlin and his dreams were fractured. In some he was Arthur and in some he was Baby and in all of them Merlin was just out of reach.

 

***

 

It seemed that once Arthur had faced up to his feelings, it became a lot harder to rein them in. He spent the next few rehearsals living in fear that someone would call him out, because he felt like he became a wreck whenever Merlin was around; blushing and rambling and generally acting like a lovesick fool.

It didn’t help that Skinny and Baby were growing closer by the day. Ever since Freya’s intervention, he and Merlin had been trying out different ways of conveying the complicated feelings between the two characters. It was mostly subtle nuances, but Gwen was positively frothing at the mouth when Arthur suggested that Baby hold Skinny’s body briefly at the end.

“It really works, you guys,” she enthused. “It’s like that Oscar Wilde quote, whatsit Freya?”

“’Each man kills the thing he loves’” Freya said, clearly having spent enough time around Gwen to have become a full time interpreter.

“Yes! Baby’s killed the thing he loves and he knows it, he’s destroyed the club, he’s ruined Mickey, it’s all ending…”

Merlin half-sat up from where he was cradled in Arthur’s arms.

“Sorry, crick in my neck.”

He grinned up at Arthur.

“It _is_ good, isn’t it? I thought it’d be too much but you nailed it.”

Arthur glowed a little at the praise. Merlin settled himself back down for another try and Arthur couldn’t help but notice how warm Merlin felt against him, fitting snugly into Arthur’s embrace.

“Nah, it’s not too much,” Freya said, furiously scribbling on her script. “Jez is in that Pinter tradition, right, all suggestion and menace. Hints of queer but nothing explicit, especially back in 1995. Well it’s 2016 now so I say we dispense with the coyness and shout it from the rooftops.”

“Is she on her soapbox again?” Gwen said, but she was smiling.

“Too right I am,” Freya said with a cackle. “Never mind in-yer-face theatre, this is in-yer-face queertre.”

Merlin let out a cheer.

“Aren’t you supposed to be dead?” Arthur said.

“Oops, sorry. Go again?”

It was an exquisite torture, spending so much time acting with Merlin. Exquisite because he was a pleasure to watch – quick and responsive and natural, pushing Arthur to greater heights in every scene they shared. Torture because getting up close and personal to Merlin as Baby was realistically the nearest Arthur was ever going to get to him.

The jukebox scene, as they all affectionately referred to it, was killing Arthur. It barely took up any time on stage at all – the script referred to it as _‘Skinny is tied with his hands around the back of a jukebox, his pants round his ankles. Baby, naked from the waist up, wild, is wielding an old navy cutlass and screaming at Skinny that he is going to die.’_ The trick, of course, was in the between scene set-up.

Some of the funniest times in rehearsal had been Gwen turning the light off and everyone making the mad dash to get in position. Gwaine and Will only needed to get downstage and rearrange their clothes slightly. Arthur started offstage so he just had to slip into in the right place with his shirt off and his cutlass drawn. It was Merlin that had the real task of it, getting his trousers down and his arms into the ropes so the stagehand could tighten them up. The first lesson they’d learnt in rehearsal was that Merlin really shouldn’t try and take his trousers down before he moved, lest he wanted to fall flat on his face and send everyone else into hysterics for half an hour. But they had it down pat after a while and that was where Arthur’s struggles really started.

It was _incredibly_ distracting trying to act next to Merlin when he was in his underwear, long pale legs right in Arthur’s eye line, and God forbid Arthur’s gaze drift any higher…

That was before Merlin started all the squirming stuff. The scene somehow evolved from Baby menacing Skinny with a deadly weapon to Baby essentially dry humping Skinny with the assistance of an extremely phallic sword. Arthur blamed Freya entirely for this; she was the one who kept telling them to ‘push it further’. Arthur wasn’t sure if she literally meant push his hips further into Merlin’s crotch because that seemed to be the point they’d basically reached. And Merlin kept making these _noises_ , for God’s sake, moaning and whimpering in ways that could be construed as fearful but also would definitely not be out of place in some of the videos Arthur watched on Redtube late at night. Coupled with the aforementioned squirming, Arthur would consider himself lucky if he didn’t end up on stage in front of eight hundred people with a raging erection.

He was just about keeping it together until the day Merlin brought in a bunch of photos of the time Will played Rocky in The Rocky Horror Picture Show, tight gold shorts and all. Will swore revenge but it wasn’t until they took a break during a run of the jukebox scene that he sidled up to Merlin with a smirk on his face.

“What’s that in your pants, Merls?”

Arthur looked over, unable to stop himself, but Merlin didn’t look any different than he usually did in his boxers. Which is to say, infuriatingly sexy and seemingly entirely unaware of it.

“Arthur’s cutlass getting you excited, Emrys?” Gwaine said with a shameless wink.

“No, not _that_ ,” Will pressed. “Something else.”

Arthur figured Will was just making some convoluted hard-on joke but then he noticed Merlin’s blush.

“Shut up, Will,” he hissed.

“You embarrassed, mate?”

“No, just-”

“I think you are.”

Merlin narrowed his eyes and then sucked in a deep breath.

“Cast of Mojo, may I have your attention please?” he said in a mock announcer voice. “I, Merlin Emrys, have a dick piercing. Which I still maintain is better than being a dick, _Will_.”

“TMI, mate,” Freya called before returning to her conflab with Gwen but Gwaine whooped.

“No shit! You’ve got a Prince Albert? What kind? Can I see it?”

“Yes, a barbell, and no, respectively.”

“Aw, come on,” Gwaine whined, looking at Merlin with open fascination. “I nearly got one myself once, only I didn’t quite fancy anyone putting a needle near the Kray Twins.”

He grabbed his crotch in an entirely unnecessary manner following that statement, as though anyone had been left in doubt about what he was referring to.

“The Kray Twins, seriously?” Will said and Gwaine set about defending himself. Arthur wasn’t listening, he was frozen in place, pulse racing.

Merlin had his cock pierced? And it was a barbell? Arthur had never seen one in real life, only in porn. He had always wondered what it would be like to run his tongue over one, or how it would feel inside of him…

God. Arthur’s own cock twitched in his pants and he sat down abruptly, hoping no one would notice. Luckily no one was paying attention – Gwaine was leering and Aglain rolling his eyes and Will looking smugly on. Merlin himself seemed mostly unruffled, save for the fact that his ears were slightly pink.

“Seriously, let me see,” Gwaine said and Arthur was torn between smacking him one and getting in line behind him. He risked another glance at Merlin’s boxers and couldn’t help but imagine Merlin showing him what was underneath. Only not with Gwaine around, they’d be alone in the dressing room. Merlin would have that little half-smile on his face and he would order Arthur to his knees and then prise his mouth open and nudge up against his lips…

“Can we please stop talking about my dick now?” Merlin said.

“Heartily seconded,” Gwen called. “We’re going again with the drumming cue, places everyone.”

The sound cue got stuck on repeat, giving Arthur an extra thirty seconds in the blackout to will his misbehaving cock back to normal. Thank God he picked loose jogging bottoms to wear that day.

It was three more torturous hours before he could finally go home and take care of himself in the shower. He spent half the night on Google images, searching through the various Prince Albert pics and trying to imagine which one most resembled Merlin’s. And he _really_ didn’t need Leon’s knowing look in the morning to tell him that he was in way too deep.

 

***

 

As if the universe had a particularly ironic sense of humour, Arthur was about to get in even deeper. He came home from the theatre on Monday night to find Leon standing in ankle high water, trying desperately to shift the flat screen TV to safer ground.

They were flooded out - for a minimum of three weeks, the landlord said. Leon offered Arthur the sofa at Elena’s bedsit but he declined. He didn’t think all three of them living in one single room would be conducive to either continuing romance for Elena and Leon or continuing friendship for himself and Leon. He salvaged what he could from his room (luckily his plays and laptop had stayed dry, but the clothes he’d left strewn across his floor needed a thorough wash) and checked into a Travelodge for the night.

He had a vague idea of calling round some old drama school mates at lunch the next day, to see if anyone had a room in London going. But when he told the others what had happened, Merlin made an alternative suggestion.

“Come stay in digs with me. There’s a spare room and I’m sure the owner wouldn’t mind, he usually has more than one actor at a time.”

Going to stay with Merlin sounded like the worst plan possible, but what could Arthur do? There was no reasonable alternative and he didn’t want to be rude and say no.

And also he didn’t want to say no at all, because the idea of actually sharing living space with Merlin was completely exhilarating and Arthur would have probably flooded his own flat sooner if he’d known it was an option.

He texted Leon and received the reply: _Try not to pull his pigtails while he’s sleeping, mate._

What did Leon know anyway?

It was probably for the best that opening night was a week away, as Arthur didn’t have a lot of time to moon over the fact that Merlin was spending his nights literally one door down. The high and low point of digs so far had been Merlin emerging from his bedroom every morning, hair rumpled and eyes sleepy soft, stretching up enough to expose a tantalising strip of stomach to Arthur’s eyes. Luckily Merlin didn’t seem to mind that Arthur tended to jump straight in the shower after greeting him, or notice that the water setting was always turned way down to cold.

Opening night nerves kept Arthur just occupied enough to not entertain any foolish thoughts (like inviting Merlin into the shower with him one morning). The rehearsal process had been surprisingly stress free after a bumpy start and Arthur had found his previous anxieties disappearing. But they returned with a vengeance as the first performance drew closer.

“I keep stepping on Gwaine’s cue when he comes down the staircase,” he fretted to Gwen at Sunday morning brunch. “If I don’t let him get that line out, his next bit won’t make any sense and the whole scene’ll be ruined.”

“So don’t step on his cue,” Morgana said, with all the sympathy of someone who’d never set foot on a stage in her life.

“Arthur, you won’t,” Gwen said reassuringly. “And if you do, Gwaine will just loop back.”

“But right after that I have to help Mordred down and if I unclip his harness wrong he’s gonna fall-”

“Arthur. Mistakes happen, okay? They will happen in the run and it will be fine and no one will die.”

“They can’t happen _onstage_ ,” Arthur said, belatedly realising he sounded as aghast as if Gwen had just told him to piss into the orchestra pit.

“Yes they can,” Gwen said firmly. “And they will, inevitably. One of you will mess up their lines. Someone will stand in the wrong place. Someone might even fall offstage, or get a nosebleed, or leave in the middle of a scene to throw up. All three of which have happened on shows I’ve done, by the way.”

“Someone fell offstage?” Arthur said in alarm.

“Cenred Coleman,” Morgana cackled. “Served him right, the sexist pig.”

“Too true. But Arthur, even that didn’t ruin the show. He just got back onstage and carried on. The liveness of theatre is the best thing about it, right? Literally anything can happen.”

Gwen pushed another croissant onto his plate.

“You know you’re doing really well, right? That I’ve never regretted casting you for a minute?”

“S’true,” Morgana put in. “She would have bitched about it to me if you were screwing things up, so relax little brother.”

Arthur nodded, taking in a deep breath. It was all going well, he just had to keep his nerve. He could do this.

“Anyway, subject change, check this out. My girl’s famous.”

Morgana thwacked an open newspaper down on the table, ignoring Gwen’s load groan. Arthur picked it up.

 

[](http://imgur.com/VogL7L4)

 

“Gwen, that’s awesome!”

“You don’t think I come off like an idiot?” Gwen said, half-burying her face in her hands.

“Not at all, it’s a really good article.”

“Bit illiterate but that’s The Herald for you,” Morgana said, helping herself to more coffee. “And at least I got referred to as Gwen’s partner.”

Gwen grinned.

“Remember the Olivier awards?”

“What happened?” Arthur said.

“They printed a picture of us in the Evening Standard with the caption ‘Gwen Thomas and close friend’.”

“Just gals being pals,” Gwen said cheerfully and Arthur laughed, his stomach finally unclenching.

He wasn’t feeling so carefree two days later. It was half an hour until beginners on opening night and the mood in the dressing room was mixed.

It was easy to see who felt the nerves and who didn’t. Aglain was Snapchatting his children with a goofy grin on his face, while Gwaine was posing in the mirror, as though he was about to head out for nothing more arduous than a night in the pub. It was a stark contrast to the way Mordred was biting his fingernails down to nubs in the corner and the hole that Will was currently pacing in the floor.

Arthur would have pegged Merlin to be one of the relaxed crew, the amount of experience he’d had in the theatre. But he found him sitting out on the fire escape, legs jiggling and hands clenched tight.

“At least I wasn’t sick this time,” he said with a rueful smile as Arthur sat down beside him.

“You get sick?”

“Oh yeah. My last three opening nights. So I call this progress.”

Arthur was strangely cheered to hear this. At least he wasn’t the only one whose stomach was currently roiling with anxiety.

“We could run away,” he suggested.

“You reckon?”

“Yeah, there’s still time. We could probably catch Les Mis if we went now, it’s only round the corner.”

Merlin laughed.

“Sold. Gwaine can go on and do everyone’s part, I think he’d like that.”

Arthur smiled at him fondly.

“Come on, get up, Frey’ll flip if you’ve got your trousers dusty.”

“They’re meant to be dusty, Skinny’s just been sweeping up,” Merlin said, but he stood up obediently and began brushing himself off. Even in the midst of his nerves, Arthur had to physically restrain himself from reaching out to dust off Merlin’s arse. He didn’t think he could quite pass that off as a matey action.

Suitably smartened, Merlin turned to face him.

“Ready, Baby?”

“Yes. Ready, Skinny?”

“Yep.”

“Let’s do this then.”

 

If you’d asked Arthur later, he would have struggled to recall much about that night’s performance. Little bits stood out – the wave of laughter when he crept up behind Gwaine in his first entrance. Then the totally unexpected laugh he got for his dry “I’m happy with that” in Act Two. A woman in the audience gasping out loud when he shot his gun in the final scene.

He did remember the applause at the end, loud and long. And Gwen’s happy smiling face as she hugged him in the dressing room. And Freya spraying a bottle of champagne in their faces whilst everyone jumped around like they’d won the Grand Prix. And the fans clapping and cheering at stage door when they trooped out one by one.

Arthur hadn’t felt this buzz since the plays he did at drama school. And this was on a whole other level to the acting he’d done in Hollywood. At the end of the day on set, you just went home. You got a clap for your golden wrap but there was no adrenaline like this, no natural high so potent that Arthur felt like cartwheeling down the street.

He restrained himself to a drink in the bar with the rest of the cast and a taxi home with Merlin at one am. Merlin had been fizzing all night too. And why wouldn’t he be? He had played a blinder onstage and Arthur told him so.

“Same to you, mate,” he said, eyes crinkling happily. “You were brilliant. Your stage debut! How does it feel?”

“Amazing,” Arthur said honestly. “It feels so… so…”

He couldn’t explain himself any further but Merlin seemed to understand.

 

Mithian didn’t quite make it to opening but she came four days later and did indeed sit in the front row. She’d agreed to forgo the standing ovation but she did do a series of piercing wolf whistles at the curtain call, while Arthur grinned bashfully at her.

She only had a weekend in London before she had to fly back to be on set so they did a whistle-stop tour of the sights. Arthur brought her backstage to meet everyone too; surprisingly it was Will rather than Mordred who got all shy and stammer-y when introduced to her. Merlin later told Arthur that Will had fancied her for years, which was perhaps a contributory factor to Will’s continuing low-key hostility.

It was brilliant to see Mithian and Arthur was sad to drop her back at the airport. She gave him a bone crushing hug as they parted (“Jeez, Mith, someone’s been doing their Pilates”) and said how proud she was of him.

“You were amazing. Onstage and off. You seem happy here, Arthur, you really do.”

“Be happier if you moved here too,” Arthur said and she laughed.

“Alright. Get me a part on Doctor Who and I’ll consider it.”

“New companion?”

“God, no. I want to be the Doctor.”

He reflected on what she’d said on the journey home. He supposed he was happier. He’d been so busy he hadn’t really thought about it, but being back in London did feel right somehow. He’d been vaguely wondering if he should head back stateside when Mojo was finished but now he was leaning in the other direction. It would be good to do some more work on his home turf, if they’d have him.

He discussed it with Merlin and Gaius after the show before press night. Gaius was the owner of the digs house, a friendly older gentleman with framed theatre posters hanging in every room.

“I’ll say the same thing I said to Merlin, you can come and go as you please,” he’d said when Arthur moved in. “You’ve got your own entrance round the back so no need to worry about waking me. Though feel free to join me if you see the light on, even an old queen like me makes it past midnight some nights.”

Strangely enough, Arthur found himself taking up that offer. Gaius had been in the theatre for over forty years and he had an insane amount of stories to tell. On the nights when Arthur was too wired to go straight to bed, Gaius would make some peppermint tea and regale him with tales of Judi Dench and Laurence Olivier and Gaius’ self-professed “mortal enemy” Andrew Lloyd Webber. Merlin often joined them and would egg Gaius on; a simple statement like “Oh, Cats wasn’t _that_ bad” could work their landlord up to an amusingly epic rant. Arthur found he quite enjoyed these little talks as a post-show ritual. There was something relaxing and homely about it, winding down with tea and conversation in a warm, well-lit house (something that Arthur and Leon’s place could never boast to be, even pre-flood).

Gaius and Merlin both heartily approved of Arthur staying in London.

“Why, your illustrious theatre career has only just begun,” Gaius exclaimed. “You lit up that stage, m’boy. You’ll be a fool not to see what else you can do.”

Gaius had been to see the show the night before and was effusive in his praise for Merlin and Arthur.

“Not that I wouldn’t be polite to any actor who stayed here, but you really were both fabulous. I’ve seen some horrors in my time, I can tell you…”

Privately, Arthur had discussed the idea a little further with Merlin.

“Yeah, I mean you don’t have to solely do theatre here. We do have a film industry outside of Hollywood, you know.”

“Yeah, I kind of fancy doing both, if I can. I really like screen acting but I’d do another play in a heartbeat. After a bit of a break, of course.”

Arthur remembered what Gwen had first said about Merlin and grinned.

“Oh you don’t take breaks, do you? You’re a total workaholic.”

“Untrue,” Merlin protested. “I’ve just been crazy lucky with the parts I’ve got and I couldn’t really say no to any of them.”

He met Arthur’s eyes and then sighed a little.

“Also… I guess I get a bit scared sometimes. That I’ve been too lucky and it’s all gonna go away. I wanna do as much as I can before that happens.”

Arthur could understand that.

“I don’t think you’ll ever stop being in demand, Merlin,” he said honestly. “You’re kind of amazing.”

It was perilously close to a confession, but worth it for the way Merlin turned pink and ducked his head, surprised but pleased.

 

***

 

Arthur should have known that things couldn’t go so well forever. He was still riding high on the buzz of performing, even more so after press night came and went and the reviews were unanimously positive. Well, Quentin Letts in the Daily Mail was not impressed but he was, as Freya succinctly put it, “a massive twat” so none of them had been too offended. The other reviewers all gushed about Gwen’s innovative staging, and the tightness of the cast, the sharpness of the dialogue. They said the revival had come at just the right time and with just the right people.

Arthur had picked up some pretty nice comments himself. Lyn Gardner in the Guardian said he ‘prowled the stage like a sinuous leopard, claws permanently extended for the kill’. Susannah Clapp for the Observer noted ‘a knockout debut performance from Arthur Pendragon that effortlessly captured both the madness and the method in Baby’s actions, the danger and the pity’. Perhaps best of all was the original Baby, Tom Hollander, coming to see the show and sending him a note of congratulations after.

Arthur was feeling untouchable but five weeks in, he came back down to earth with a bump.

It was his own fault, really. No actor with any sense typed their own name into Google. But Arthur had been looking for a specific review that Gwen had mentioned, to send to his father. Uther wasn’t the most demonstrative of men in his affections but he’d quietly been to see the show twice already and Morgana said she’d just gotten him a comp to come again. When Arthur had gone round for lunch last weekend, his father hadn’t gushed or praised him. But there were a dozen reviews from various newspapers and magazines magnetted to Uther’s perfectly pristine fridge, where no clutter had ever hung before. Arthur had swallowed down a lump in his throat and foregone their traditional handshake for a hug when he left.

His attempt to find the review online was fruitless. What he did find was a yawning chasm of speculation, rumours and chatter concerning his private life, his reasons for leaving L.A., his breakup with Mithian.

Most of it he could brush off (one of the more outlandish comments he saw posited that Arthur had gotten a Kardashian pregnant and fled America to avoid paying child support). But there was one page that lingered in his mind, on a gossip site called Say What? He’d idly clicked on it and got the shock of his life when a picture of Merlin loaded on his screen.

 

[](http://imgur.com/PcWUJME)

Fingers shaking ever so slightly, Arthur clicked on the pink link and found it went to a tweet from a girl who’d seen them entering Gaius’ house together in the wee hours the week before. 

The whole thing was stupid. Just ridiculous speculation, the kind everyone in the public eye was subjected to sooner or later. But it cut Arthur somewhere he hadn’t known he was vulnerable. Because this was one rumour he wished was true.

He was in a funny mood for the performance that night. Try as he might, he couldn’t quite summon up the more manic quality to Baby that he’d been giving free rein to. His Baby that night was sadder, less menacing, more lost.

The audience seemed happy, and if Gwen looked a little confused after, she didn’t comment. Every night was slightly different after all and she encouraged them to keep testing their limits. The energy was never the same two performances in a row.

But Arthur felt morose as they sat in the bar after. He couldn’t quite get into the swing of relaxation like everyone else.

Both Merlin and Gwaine made some valiant attempts to draw him out of his shell, but eventually they just left him to it. He gloomily eavesdropped on Aglain and Mordred’s conversation, the former warning the latter about the perils of unscrupulous agents.

After an hour, he was ready to call it a night. He looked around for Merlin, they usually shared a cab home. It didn’t take long to spot him. He was stood next to the bar and a very attractive man was stood with him. It took Arthur a second to place him and then he remembered that Gwen’s brother Elyan was visiting from Belfast for the week.

Arthur had nursed a pretty serious crush on Elyan when he was younger, even though he rarely saw him more than once a year. The man had a way of looking into your eyes when he was talking to you as if there was literally no one else in the world he’d rather be with.

He was doing it to Merlin right now. And Merlin was leaning forward, body angled towards Elyan’s, open and inviting.

Elyan had a long term girlfriend in Ireland, whom Gwen said he loved very much. Arthur was pretty sure he wasn’t consciously flirting with Merlin; it was just the way he talked to people. But it was still painful to see how Merlin was responding, what it looked like when Merlin was attracted to someone.

Arthur left, by himself. He got a text from Merlin when he was nearly home, asking where he was, but he didn’t answer. The stupid gossip site was still onscreen when he opened up his laptop and some demon inside made him refresh the comments.

There wasn’t much new so he clicked onto Twitter instead, scrolling down his deck. It wasn’t long before an exchange caught his eye.

 

[](http://imgur.com/NdzUrqw)

[](http://imgur.com/cLP75AR)

[ ](http://imgur.com/20xtQHf)

[ ](http://imgur.com/Cz9Kg8w)

[](http://imgur.com/SDDFXB7)

[](http://imgur.com/kKnb2oE)

[](http://imgur.com/ZuduSc3)

[](http://imgur.com/si0x0Ve)

It should have been funny. On any other day he would have laughed at Gwaine’s antics. But now it just seemed like the cherry on top of an awful day, yet another reminder that the world and his wife could apparently openly flirt with Merlin whereas Arthur couldn’t even be honest about his own sexuality.

He slept badly that night and awoke feeling more tired than when he’d gone to bed. He stumbled into Merlin in the hallway and managed to mumble some excuse about feeling sick the night before and having to leave. Merlin seemed satisfied, not noticing that Arthur couldn’t meet his eyes.

It turned out the day was to be a disaster from start to finish. It should have been easy – they didn’t have their usual Saturday matinee as the theatre was holding a fundraiser, so Gwen decided to bring them in for a full rehearsal run to iron out a few kinks. Arthur sleepwalked through the warm up. He still felt raw, sensitised all over from last night.

It wasn’t that he was genuinely worried about Gwaine hitting on Merlin. It was the fact that Gwaine was able to make a joke like that. Completely casually, without a second thought. And Arthur was too much of a coward to even hint to Merlin that he liked him.

He was completely off his game when they did a line run of the second scene, unable to concentrate at all. He fumbled the Buick speech and stepped on three of Will’s cues in the space of five minutes. Worst of all, he got confused in the scene change, not used to the rehearsal room again after a month on stage, and accidentally rapped Merlin in the hip with the cutlass.

“Shit! Shit, I’m so sorry!”

“It’s fine,” Merlin said, but he was gripping his side and his expression was pained.

“I didn’t mean to,” Arthur said miserably.

Merlin gave him a quick smile.

“I know you didn’t, Arthur, it’s really okay.”

“Let’s take five,” Gwen called out, frustration barely concealed. “We need to ice that, Merlin.”

“I’ll go ask Geoffrey for some,” Will offered, heading for the door. He cast a disapproving look at Arthur as he left, as though Arthur had hit Merlin on purpose.

Arthur left Aglain to help Merlin to a chair; he didn’t dare touch him again. When Will came back with the ice, he took Merlin off to the side room.

“You might need to take your pants off to ice it and it’s nothing I haven’t seen before!” he chirped and Merlin mouthed ‘save me’ at Arthur as he limped away. Arthur could barely even return a smile. He sat on his own, staring down at his script until Freya crouched down next to him.

“Gwen’s too nice to say anything so I will: you are fucking up this rehearsal.”

Freya’s words were harsh but her tone was concerned. He shook his head in apology.

“Bit out of it today. Headache. I’ll get it together.”

Freya clasped his knee briefly.

“I’ll go see if I can find some aspirin.”

“Alright, from the top of scene two again I think,” Gwen said, tone determinedly bright. “Arthur, can you get them back in?”

The side room was a little way down the corridor, the door drawn almost completely shut. He could hear voices the minute he stepped out.

“…just proves what I’ve been saying.”

“Oh, leave it Will.”

“He’s been in a strop all day! God knows how tonight’s gonna go! It’s just so unprofessional.”

“Oh my God, don’t even start, you forget I was there when you missed your Othello entrance because you were playing Angry Birds-”

“In drama school, mate! I bloody grew up since then. He’s still some spoiled prat who got used to the luxury treatment in Hollywood and can’t believe the theatre doesn’t revolve around him.”

“That’s so unfair.”

“He just clocked you with a cutlass! Never mind Skinny, you’ll be lucky if _you_ don’t lose your bollocks by the end of the run.”

Whatever small warmth Arthur could glean from Merlin defending his honour was outweighed by the sting of Will’s criticism. Did they all think he was just some spoiled prat? Throwing a strop and ruining rehearsal?

It didn’t matter. He just had to get through today and then he could spend his whole Sunday off wallowing in self-pity. He raised his hand to knock.

“Seriously, give it a rest, Will.”

“Don’t know why you keep defending that useless pretty boy.”

Arthur froze, hand in the air. He could feel a flush creeping up his neck and his heart started to pound.

Slowly and deliberately, he moved away from the door. Then he called out Merlin’s name.

It was only a few seconds before Merlin popped his head round.

“Do they want us back? Come on, Will.”

“You alright?” Arthur said mechanically.

“Yeah. You know if you wanted to play Skinny so bad you could have just asked Arthur, no need to hobble me.”

Arthur’s grin felt painfully forced. Merlin’s teasing smile faded a little but he didn’t comment, just followed Arthur back into the main room.

“We’re going from the top of scene two,” Arthur said as he pushed the door open.

“Oh, so now pretty boy’s giving the orders too,” Will grumbled from behind.

It was a like a red mist descended.

Arthur was moving before he even knew what was happening, grabbing Will by the collar and slamming him up against the wall.

“What the fuck did you just call me?”

“Arthur!”

Arthur didn’t know who had spoken; he was staring into Will’s eyes, panting like a beast, looking for any excuse…

Will was blinking rapidly, his hands raised in supplication. He looked afraid. Of Arthur.

_Shit._

Arthur released him as rapidly as he had grabbed him.

“Sorry,” he said. “I…”

He turned and Merlin’s shocked face was the first thing he saw. Then Gwen was suddenly right in front of him.

“What the hell are you doing?” she hissed.

“I didn’t mean-”

“We’ve had four months without any alpha male bullshit and I intend to keep it that way,” Gwen said, voice rising for all to hear. “Anyone who has a problem with that can leave now.”

No one spoke. Even Gwaine had no joke to make for once.

“Right, glad we cleared that up. You, come with me.”

Arthur followed Gwen out of the room like a man condemned. He didn’t dare look back; one glimpse of Merlin’s face had been enough.

Gwen barely let the door shut before rounding on him.

“You cannot do that in my rehearsal room, Arthur.”

She was as serious as Arthur ever saw her and he understood why. He had been way out of line.

“I was wrong.”

He looked down at his hands. They were shaking a little.

“Damn right you were.”

“I’m really sorry,” he said quietly and Gwen’s face softened a little.

“What is going on with you today? I’ve never seen you square up to anyone in your life.”

It had always been a little bit of a joke between them, Arthur getting these roles in L.A. as muscle men and badass cops when he was the opposite in real life. He’d been in a fight or two as a lad but he’d left that all behind along with short trousers and Lynx body spray. He’d ended up pretty handy in stage combat by the time he graduated LAMDA but it had taken him a good three months to not flinch away every time someone came at him with a practice sword.

“He called me pretty boy,” he mumbled and Gwen looked confused.

“Yeah that was rude, and I’ll be speaking to Will too but-”

“That was what Agravaine always called me.”

Gwen paused in mid-sentence. Arthur could feel his face heating up and he looked down at the ground.

“I just saw red,” he muttered.

He was somewhat surprised by the ferocity of the hug he was pulled into.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Gwen said into his hair. “I’m sorry.”

He squeezed her back.

“S’not an excuse.”

“No, it’s not, but it’s an explanation.”

Gwen released him, looking both fierce and gentle in a way that only she could.

“Now listen to me. Agravaine was a bastard. He knew nothing and he’ll get his, I promise you. You do not allow him any more space inside your head, do you understand?”

Arthur nodded.

“No more seeing red. Go out there and shake Will’s hand and then _focus on the show_. In return, I will speak to Will and make it very clear that if I hear the words pretty boy in my rehearsal room again, Gwaine gets to play both Potts and Sweets and Will gets to be booted out on his arse.”

“Gwaine would love that,” Arthur said weakly and Gwen grinned.

“His ego would be unstoppable so let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

“Okay. I really am sorry.”

Gwen clapped Arthur on the back.

“Make it up to me with a good show tonight.”

“Are you regretting directing an all-male play now?” Arthur asked ruefully.

“Hon, do you really think that was the first fight I’ve ever seen in one of my rehearsals? I watched Sophia Stanmore rip Vivian Allsop’s false eyelashes right off her face once.”

Arthur could believe it. He’d met Sophia once and she was a… character, to say the least.

“What did you do?”

“I broke it up, much to Morgana’s displeasure. She was enjoying it a little too much, if you know what I mean.”

“Gross, that’s my sister,” Arthur said and Gwen gave him a friendly shove.

“Oops, sorry. I always forget.”

She pushed him through the door first and then stepped in herself, pointing at Will, who quailed a little.

“He’s had his bollocking and you’re next,” Gwen said in a tone of voice that had even Gwaine gulping and looking down at the ground. “But first, you shake hands like grown-ups.”

Arthur couldn’t quite look Will in the eye as he put his hand out and it seemed the feeling was mutual. They both let go fast and then Gwen hauled Will off to the dressing room.

“More like ‘dressing down’ room,” Gwaine quipped and Arthur was glad Mordred threw something at Gwaine’s head so he didn’t have to.

The show went as well as could be expected after a day like that. If there was a little extra tension between Baby and Potts in that night’s performance, no one in the audience seemed to mind. It was one of the times when Arthur was deeply glad he was playing a sociopath. If he had to act friendly with Will onstage he probably would have tanked the whole show.

But the atmosphere remained subdued as they changed that evening. Arthur half expected Merlin to go home without him but when he finished up at stage door, the taxi was waiting round the corner.

Merlin didn’t say anything on the ride home and Arthur was glad. He didn’t want to hear about how he’d cocked everything up today, didn’t want to relive that look Merlin gave him when he’d grabbed Will’s collar.

He supposed that Merlin was angry, and his suspicion seemed borne out by the fact that Merlin disappeared to his room the second they got inside the house. Gaius’ light was off so no reprieve there, but Arthur wasn’t sure even peppermint tea and a whole book’s worth of sage advice could have helped at this point.

He slumped on the sofa, too bone weary to even walk to his bedroom.

He was massaging his temples, eyes shut, when he heard the door open and click shut again.

“Right,” Merlin said. “I don’t normally advocate for massive consumption of alcohol during a run but if there was ever a time for it…”

Arthur looked up to see Merlin standing there with a bottle of rum, a carton of pineapple juice, and two glass tumblers.

“What are you-”

“I don’t know what happened today. And I don’t know if you want to talk about it or if you just want to get blitzed but I’d rather you weren’t alone right now.”

Horribly, embarrassingly, Arthur found himself on the brink of tears.

“You don’t have to stay up for me-” he croaked and Merlin hushed him.

“Silence yourself. It’s Saturday night, we have no show tomorrow, we’ve been working like dogs all week. We deserve this.”

He clunked the glasses down then paused.

“Well I mean, we’re not exactly coal miners but it was still hard work, right? Not to mention the fact we put up with Gwaine.”

“You like him really,” Arthur said, a trace of good humour coming back to him at the sight of Merlin, perching himself down on the sofa like some kind of rum bearing guardian angel.

“I do like him, that’s what worries me,” Merlin mused. “I think we’ve become acclimatised to him. Like Stockholm syndrome or something.”

He picked up the pineapple juice and Arthur made a face.

“Don’t give me that look. Dark rum and pineapple is a classic combo. Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it.”

Merlin was right. It tasted sweet and faintly tropical and somehow it was just what Arthur needed.

“This your usual tipple then?”

“Yeah, or a Mojito. I tell you Arthur, cocktails are gay male privilege at its finest. I can go to a bar and order anything I want, as sweet and ridiculous as I like it. Straight dudes have to drink the same old beer day in day out, lest they take a sip of daiquiri and the masculinity police show up to revoke their hetero license.”

Arthur laughed, in spite of himself. Merlin only winked and topped Arthur’s glass up.

Merlin kept the conversation light for the next hour, topics carefully neutral and far away from the events of the day. The pain in Arthur’s head gradually lessened and some of the tension in his shoulders and back began to un-knot itself.

That might have been down to the rum as well as the chit chat. Merlin was a generous pourer and Arthur had skipped dinner. He might have only been three drinks in but the room had already started to soften at the edges and his limbs were feeling pleasingly numb. Merlin was sat on the sofa beside him, about a hand’s width between them. Arthur wanted to bridge that gap somehow, even in a non-sexual way, just reach over and pat Merlin’s thigh for emphasis, or grab his wrist, or touch his bare arm…

Merlin didn’t touch Arthur casually. Not the way he did Will or Gwaine or even Mordred. Arthur couldn’t understand why. Was he that repulsive to Merlin? Or did he make Merlin nervous? Did he think that Arthur would have some homophobic freak-out if he dared to lay a hand on him?

The only time they touched was as Skinny and Baby. It felt so wrong suddenly, as drunk as Arthur was, and without thinking he reached out to rest his hand on Merlin’s forearm.

Merlin honest to God startled slightly before turning to look at Arthur, eyes wide.

“Just wanted to say… thanks. For. Um. The rum.”

Merlin gave him a slightly nervous smile but he didn’t shake Arthur’s hand off.

“Oh well, thank Lance, he got it as a good luck gift. I think it was kinda expensive too. Probs should be pairing it with something classier than Tesco’s own brand pineapple juice but I’m sure Lance wouldn’t-”

“Sorry about today,” Arthur blurted, because Merlin was gearing up for what looked like an epic babble and if Arthur didn’t say it now then he’d lose his nerve.

Merlin’s mouth snapped shut and then opened again.

“You don’t need to apologise, Arthur, anyone can have a bad day. It’s just… I dunno, I was a bit worried. When Will… you seemed really mad.”

Merlin was giving him a look which was two parts concern and one part anxious, as though he was afraid Arthur would kick off again. It made Arthur feel like awful. He really didn’t want Merlin to think of him as some unpredictable powder keg.

“I was out of order,” he said at last and Merlin gave him a rueful smile.

“So was Will, to be fair. I told him to stop being such a prick. I don’t know why he gets like this.”

“He’s never liked me,” Arthur said, suddenly glum.

“No, but on the plus side he’s probably a bit terrified of you now,” Merlin said bracingly.

“I don’t want that,” Arthur said, feeling the kind of sincerity flooding through him that only alcohol could bring on. “Merlin, I-I never would have hit him.”

“Yeah, I didn’t think you were the type. That’s why I was so surprised today.”

Merlin had shifted a little closer on the couch, his gaze questioning.

“What’s going on in there?”

And to Arthur’s great surprise, he extended one finger and tapped gently at the side of Arthur’s head.

“I-”

Arthur’s tongue felt too big for his mouth. And his secrets felt too big for his body. He wanted someone to understand – no, he wanted _Merlin_ to understand. He wasn’t a princess or a spoilt prat. He didn’t think he was too good for theatre. It wasn’t his giant ego that make him turn stiff or awkward or stand offish at times.

And there was something else too. That punch drunk vulnerability he only got when he’d had this much to drink – the longing to show himself to someone else. To share the dark things, the painful things, so they wouldn’t feel so tight in his chest anymore, so heavy on his shoulders.

He wanted Merlin to _know_ him.

So he took a deep breath.

“I-I was in a play once,” he said falteringly. “Straight out of drama school. At the Old Vic.”

Merlin frowned, looking confused.

“I thought this was your theatre debut.”

“It is. I never- I never went onstage. They recast my part the week before it opened.”

Merlin’s expression changed to one of sympathy but he didn’t speak, seemingly sensing there was more Arthur wanted to say.

“It was… all my course mates were really jealous. Because we had just graduated and they were all paying their dues in fringe theatre and film shorts and I got snapped up to play Puck in this big lavish Midsummer Night’s Dream they were putting on.”

Arthur had been so excited. He’d been prepared to put the graft in, to spend a few years (or more) in obscurity as a jobbing actor before really getting anywhere, and then the perfect part had landed in his lap one month out of school. He loved the play, loved the character, loved the venue. Leon had been thrilled, Uther quietly approving, and even Morgana had begrudgingly admitted she was impressed.

“The director was this guy called Agravaine du Bois.”

Agravaine was a tall, imposing man with a head of wavy brown hair and rich, plummy voice. He was unlike Will in pretty much every way, except for the fact that they both hated Arthur on sight.

“I’m not even sure why he cast me…”

Agravaine had made it clear he thought Arthur was a mistake from day one. At first Arthur barely noticed the calculated snide remarks about LAMDA and green young graduates; he was so elated to be in an actual live rehearsal room with serious professional actors. He took Agravaine’s attitude to be the kind of ribbing he’d heard about newbies to the trade getting. He was being tested and once Arthur had proved his worth, he would be one of them.

“I was so new to all of it, I didn’t really have a clue.”

The ribbing got worse, more pointed. If Arthur stumbled over a line or missed a cue, Agravaine delighted in pointing it out. There was one day when Agravaine professed to be unhappy with the way Arthur was speaking the ‘My mistress with a monster is in love’ speech. He made Arthur do it again, and again, and again, and again. The whole cast was watching as Agravaine shouted out instructions and insults, seemingly at random. Nerves made Arthur fumble and his words got mixed up, coming out all backwards. Agravaine sneered openly at him.

‘Is this the best that LAMDA is producing nowadays? Marble-mouthed pretty boys who wouldn’t know iambic pentameter if it bit them on the backside?’

Arthur remembered wishing the ground would swallow him up but he just stood there in place, reciting the lines over and over, until finally he was allowed to stop.

“He called me pretty boy all the time after that.”

It seemed like such an innocuous jibe but it had needled itself under Arthur’s skin. It brought back all the times anyone had joked at LAMDA that Arthur could probably coast through his career on looks alone. Or the visiting choreographer who had loudly mused that Arthur was lucky he was handsome, because he danced like a baby rhino. Or all the worst thoughts he’d had about himself late at night, that he was a sham, he’d never make it as an actor, he was just fooling himself…

At drama school, he’d used the negativity to spur him on. He’d done his warm ups and his vocals even on days off. He’d cornered Kara in the year above, a Russian ballet dancer turned actress, and convinced her to give him private dance lessons in exchange for help with her English accent. When the visiting choreographer returned to see their final physical theatre show, Arthur’s perfectly executed flamenco felt like the most satisfying ‘fuck you’ possible.

But it didn’t work when he tried to do it with Puck. No matter how many times he ran the lines (Leon could probably still recite the whole of that part along with Arthur, for all the times he gamely agreed to be a scene buddy in the flat), no matter how hard he worked in rehearsal, no matter how late he stayed, nothing made Agravaine happy. All Arthur was doing was driving himself into a frenzy - and being met time and time again with insults and indifference took a heavy toll on him.

He began to dread going to rehearsals. It wasn’t only the lines; Puck was such a physical part too. Arthur had always kept himself fit and strong, he wasn’t at all worried about the challenge of climbing and jumping around the set. But when Agravaine was watching, he invariably screwed up. Tripped, or missed his footing, or simply executed a cartwheel so clumsy that Agravaine called the whole of the cast to come and look.

‘You are aware the concept for Puck is a _graceful_ sprite, aren’t you, pretty boy? Perhaps I was being overly optimistic. Maybe our Puck should be a bumbling buffoon so that you’d fit the part a little better.’

Arthur pushed himself harder. He practiced in the park next to his flat, using trees and benches to simulate the set. He didn’t usually leave rehearsals until ten so he was out quite late some nights. Once Leon came looking for him when it was past two in the morning, and physically dragged him back home.

‘I’m getting worried about you, mate. When was the last time you actually slept?’

Arthur hadn’t been sleeping much at all. He kept having nightmares about being onstage and not knowing his lines, frozen in the lights while everyone booed. And opening night was getting so close, he needed to practice more, he needed to get this right…

The end of it all came suddenly. Nine days before they were due to open, Arthur collapsed mid-rehearsal. He still couldn’t remember much about that day, only that he’d been out late in the park the night before and his head had felt so thick all that morning, his vision blurring into double.

He was taken to hospital and diagnosed with exhaustion. The doctor said that he should take at least a week to rest and recover. Arthur argued, saying he had to get back to rehearsals, that he had to be onstage next week.

But he was wrong. Agravaine’s assistant arrived with a message later that day. Arthur’s part was being given to the actor playing Flute as he wasn’t medically fit to return. He would be paid for his time in rehearsal. No hard feelings and get well soon.

“And that was that.”

Arthur looked down at his lap. It had felt right when he was talking, like he’d needed to speak all of this aloud at last, but he was suddenly hit by a wave of regret. He had shared too much. Merlin hadn’t needed or wanted to know all of that. Just because Arthur wanted to be close to Merlin didn’t mean he had a right to push all of his problems onto him.

He jumped when he felt a hand on his.

“That’s awful,” Merlin said and his tone was frank. “You shouldn’t have had to go through any of that.”

The sympathy in his voice left Arthur feeling oddly guilty, like he’d tricked Merlin into caring about him.

“Oh I’m making it sound worse than it is,” he said, forcing his voice to sound breezy. “It was probably a good learning curve really, it helped me understand that-”

“Arthur,” Merlin said. “It’s awful. And it shouldn’t have happened.”

He was rubbing Arthur’s hand with his thumb, strong soothing lines. Arthur felt his evasions die in his throat and for a minute he just concentrated on the rhythm of Merlin’s touch.

“I’m really embarrassed,” he said quietly. “I never think about it because I feel…”

He knew what word he was looking for. He was ashamed, that it had happened to him at all, and that he’d let it go on for so long.

“God, do not be embarrassed. He should be embarrassed, the bastard. You did nothing wrong. He was a bully.”

Merlin’s voice had risen, his hand gripping Arthur’s a little tighter.

“What a shit thing to happen on your first play.”

“You can probably see why I didn’t do another for five years,” Arthur joked weakly.

“Didn’t any of the other cast…” Merlin trailed off but his meaning was clear.

“I think they were a bit scared of him too. The woman who played Titania, Helen, she tried to be nice. Used to give me pep talks and tell me to keep my chin up. But in rehearsals… no one would go against him.”

“It’s a disgrace,” Merlin said fiercely. “He shouldn’t be allowed to direct anymore.”

“That’s what Gwen said.”

“She knew?”

“Yeah. I only told Leon and Morgana at the time, and then Gwen a bit later. She wanted me to report him to Equity.”

“Why didn’t you?” Merlin said and then almost immediately seemed to change his mind. “No, sorry, that’s a shit question to ask. You had your reasons and they were valid, I didn’t mean to imply-”

Arthur held up a hand.

“Merlin, it’s fine, I know what you meant. I… I didn’t want to rock the boat or jeopardise my career. I was a coward.”

“Not a coward,” Merlin said vehemently. “It’s a scary thing to do at any age, let alone when you’d just graduated.”

He paused, delicately.

“Is that why you went to LA?”

Arthur nodded.

“I didn’t work at all for nearly a year and then I got a job offer and it just seemed…” Arthur sighed. “Agravaine always used to threaten people in rehearsals, saying theatre was a small world and he could ruin their reputation. I was scared that he’d already trashed me to everyone who mattered. I thought if I didn’t take the LA job, I might stay here and get nothing.”

“What a piece of shit. I hate the fact that people like him exist in this industry. I feel like theatre talks a big game about us all being a family and then stuff like this just gets brushed under the carpet.”

“You’ve never-” Arthur said, suddenly anxious that the anger in Merlin’s tone was concealing something deeper.

“Oh no, not me. I mean I’ve worked with some oddballs and cranks, but nothing like that.”

Merlin squeezed Arthur’s hand one last time and let it go.

“You’re so much braver than me. I probably would have quit acting and never come back.”

“I thought about it,” Arthur said and then gave Merlin a weak smile. “I’m not actually good at anything else.”

“Bullshit,” Merlin said instantly. “You’re an amazing cook. You speak Spanish. You can draw. Clearly, you’re brimming with talents. Er, not that I’m trying to turn you off acting…”

Arthur felt a little floored. He’d only mentioned the Spanish thing in passing (it just made sense to learn it when he lived in California) and he didn’t realise Merlin had been paying attention to the doodles he made on his script and on bar napkins in the post-show pub. As for the cooking, Merlin had professed to be useless and Arthur always enjoyed it, so why wouldn’t he just cook dinner for two?

He coughed, a little embarrassed but mostly flattered.

“Well. Erm. Glad to hear you think my vegetarian cooking skills are coming on.”

“You’re a wizard of tofu,” Merlin said solemnly, and then they both laughed a little. Arthur more out of relief than anything. He’d told Merlin everything and Merlin had understood. He hadn’t judged or mocked, and if anything he’d come over a little protective of Arthur. Arthur couldn’t deny how good that felt.

“Jeez, it’s past three,” Merlin said, gesturing to the clock. “I guess we should-”

Arthur could have happily stayed up but Merlin had a point. He picked the bottle of rum off the floor and fixed the cap back on.

“Thank you for the alcohol. And the chat.”

“Anytime. See, isn’t it nice to break the straight guy mould and have a drink that actually tastes good for a change?”

Arthur could have let it go. But it had been a night for honesty and this was as good an opening as he could ever hope to get.

“I’m not, actually. Straight, I mean.”

Merlin’s eyebrows actually shot up, like a cartoon.

“Oh. I didn’t know you were gay,” he said, voice slightly unsteady.

“I’m not. I’m bi.”

There was an infinitesimal pause in which Merlin’s gaze flickered across Arthur’s face and somehow, beyond a shadow of a doubt, Arthur just knew what he was thinking.

“Well, I guess bi guys like to drink-mffmph-”

Arthur cut Merlin off with a kiss. Sweet and simple, just a quick press of his lips Then he leaned back, heart thumping in his chest.

Slowly, Merlin brought one hand to his mouth, like he couldn’t believe what had just happened. Then a smile spread across his face and it was the loveliest thing Arthur had ever seen.

“I didn’t know you felt…”

“Probably since the day we met,” Arthur said.

“I thought you were straight,” Merlin said softly. “I didn’t – I didn’t let myself go down that road.”

“Wanna go down it now?” Arthur said and Merlin laughed.

“You don’t waste any time.”

“I think we’ve wasted enough, haven’t we?” Arthur said and then they were kissing again. Properly this time, hot and wet, Merlin greedily taking all Arthur was giving, grabbing him by the collar to pull him further in.

“Wait, let’s-“

Merlin broke off to stand them up, then tugged Arthur towards the door.

“My room, we can-”

“Oh yes,” Arthur murmured and Merlin looked back with a smile.

“Not that, not tonight.”

Arthur pouted a little as they crossed the threshold into Merlin’s bedroom.

“Why not?”

“Because we’re drunk and it’s been a long day and I don’t think our first time should be… like that.”

Arthur crowded Merlin against the wall, leaning in to press a long kiss onto his neck.

“But I want you inside me.”

“Jesus Christ,” Merlin said, nearly banging his head. “Fuck, Arthur, you can’t just say-“

He caught Arthur’s lips and kissed him desperately, moving them towards the bed. Arthur started to tug at Merlin’s jeans, but Merlin stayed his hands.

“No, wait, not that.”

“C’mon,” Arthur pleaded, worrying at Merlin’s fingers.

“Arthur,” Merlin said in quite a different tone. “Listen to me.”

Arthur stopped moving altogether. There was something in Merlin’s voice, a delicious authority that hadn’t been there before.

“Go and lie on the bed, face up,” Merlin ordered and God, that went straight to Arthur’s cock. It was a bit like his dressing room fantasy, with Merlin bossing him onto his knees, only Arthur never thought it might actually happen.

He complied, climbing onto the bed and lying back. He couldn’t help but press the heel of his hand into the crotch of his jeans.

“No, take that away.”

Arthur’s hand shot away immediately, resting against his side. Merlin smiled, slow and easy.

“Good. Now you’re listening to me.”

He got onto the bed, and moved to straddle Arthur. Then he leant down and pulled Arthur into another kiss.

It went on for much longer this time. Merlin ended up lying flat on top of Arthur, every inch of his body pressed into Arthur’s own. He still moved Arthur’s hands away if they tried to stray below their waists but when Arthur started rocking his hips up into Merlin’s, he only smiled.

“Go on, then. Needy boy.”

Arthur whimpered a little when Merlin began to grind back down on him. His cock was jutting upwards, pressing hard against his jeans. He could feel Merlin’s too and it was driving him insane with lust. He wanted to touch so badly…

He had an idea and slipped his hand up inside Merlin’s shirt. Merlin made no move to stop him so Arthur reached around until his fingers caught against Merlin’s nipple. It pebbled at his touch and he rubbed it, enjoying the sudden moan he shocked out of Merlin.

“Do that again,” Merlin breathed and Arthur obliged, tracing his fingers over the same spot. Merlin thrust down hard, breathing quickening. Emboldened, Arthur tugged at Merlin’s shirt and Merlin let him, sitting up a little and pulling it off himself. He did the same to Arthur’s own and then lay back down again. Arthur’s cock hardened a little more at the feel of their bare skin touching. Merlin was warm, his skin smooth, and Arthur ran his hands up and down Merlin’s side before returning to flick at his nipples.

Merlin groaned and Arthur smiled, manoeuvring Merlin up a little so he could dip his head to Merlin’s chest. He gave Merlin’s right nipple an experimental lick and then sucked the whole thing into this mouth, nibbling it ever so slightly with his teeth.

Merlin practically went wild, bucking against Arthur. His hips were canting now and the stimulation against Arthur’s cock was immense. He would have said before that he’d grown out of this kind of thing in secondary school but somehow Merlin not allowing him to touch below the waist was making the whole encounter so much hotter.

Arthur sucked on his other nipple and then pulled Merlin back down for a kiss. He wrapped his legs around Merlin’s waist and pulled him closer that way. Merlin moved his lips to Arthur’s neck and began to suck desperate kisses into his skin, rutting up against him.

“I need to touch you,” Arthur gasped out and Merlin grabbed his hand and pulled it down. Arthur thought for a moment he was getting exactly what he wanted until he realised Merlin was directing his hand down his own jeans.

“Get yourself off, I want to watch.”

Fuck.

Arthur gripped himself tightly, not caring about the awkward angle or the fact that Merlin’s thrusting hips were barely giving him enough room to move his hand. All it took was three quick tugs and he was coming, letting out a cry that Merlin swallowed, lips on Arthur’s own like he wanted to devour him.

He reached for Merlin’s jeans once the high had faded but Merlin switched their positions, pulling Arthur on top of him and directing his mouth back to Merlin’s nipples. Arthur didn’t need an invitation, he began to lick and suck at them again, while Merlin humped up against him.

He managed to coordinate himself to thrust down to meet Merlin at the same time as a particularly eager suck and he felt Merlin stiffen beneath him. His body spasmed for a second and he groaned, low and spent.

If Arthur had been a teenager again, he might have been able to come afresh at the sight of Merlin orgasming from basically nipple stimulation alone. It was one of the hottest things he’d ever seen and he wasted no time in telling Merlin so, between breathless kisses.

Then they both just lay there for a while, coming down the high.

“That was…”

“Yeah.”

Merlin got up, pressing one last kiss to Arthur’s cheek, and then disappeared into the bathroom. He returned a few minutes later, his boxers and jeans bunched up in his hands.

“Sleep in here tonight?”

Arthur’s temporary fears that Merlin had abandoned him dissipated. He saw a tantalising glimpse of Merlin’s arse as he pulled on a fresh pair of boxers and Merlin must have felt his stare.

“I won’t be able to control myself if we sleep naked, trust me,” he said. “And I want to save something for tomorrow.”

“Yeah?” Arthur croaked.

“Oh yeah. What you said before? That’s happening.”

Merlin’s voice was dark with promise and Arthur nearly squirmed in anticipation. He couldn’t wait to feel Merlin’s cock inside him, to finally get a glimpse of that damn barbell that had been haunting his wank fantasies for weeks.

He slipped to the bathroom to clean himself off and grabbed a pair of Merlin’s boxers when he came back in. Merlin literally groaned when he saw Arthur pull them on.

“How are you this perfect? You’re like a walking porno.”

“You don’t have to just look,” Arthur said, preening a little.

“Minx,” Merlin said, pulling him down into the bed. “Not tonight. Just you wait.”

Arthur thought he could just about manage that.

 

***

 

It was a bit scary, waking up the next morning. Merlin was still asleep, pressed snugly into Arthur’s side, mouth open. He looked painfully adorable with his hair all fluffy and mussed up and Arthur felt a pang. What if Merlin didn’t want him in the cold light of day?

As if in answer, Merlin stirred, eyelids fluttering.

“Stop thinking so loud,” he murmured, voice thick with sleep.

“Gwen always says that to me,” Arthur said and Merlin cracked an eye open.

“I love Gwen deeply but can we not talk about her when my morning wood is pressed into your thigh?”

So it was. Arthur wiggled his leg experimentally and Merlin groaned.

“You’re a menace, Pendragon. Give me a minute to wake up.”

Arthur watched as Merlin unfolded himself, his limbs seeming to rouse one at a time, nose twitching as he yawned.

Then his eyes opened up properly and he fixed Arthur with a grin.

“Morning,” he said and leaned in for a closed mouth kiss. All of Arthur’s anxieties melted away with that one small gesture. Merlin didn’t look like he was preparing to cut and run.

He reached down Merlin’s leg and Merlin snorted.

“You’re relentless. I’m not doing anything till I’ve had some breakfast.”

He stretched and then sat up.

“What would you say to some pastries from Gail’s?”

“Hello pastries,” Arthur said, and then blushed because that was the silly joke Uther always used to make.

“You are so cute,” Merlin said, reaching out to ruffle Arthur’s hair. “Lemme go shower quick and then I’ll run out for them. You can make the tea.”

Arthur stretched out on the bed until Merlin returned from the shower, luxuriating in what had happened, replaying his memories of last night.

He was entirely unprepared for Merlin launching a tickle attack when he came back in the room. He targeted Arthur’s stomach until Arthur screamed for mercy.

“That’s what you get for not making tea,” Merlin said when he’d finally relented.

“Okay, okay, I’m going.”

“Good,” Merlin said and then casually dropped the towel around his waist. Arthur’s mouth practically ran dry as he took in the sight of Merlin’s cock, long and slim and pierced to perfection with two shiny metal balls. “Oh and Arthur? Get in the shower after that. I want you clean for what we’re going to do.”

Arthur had never showered so thoroughly in his life. He made sure he was clean everywhere he needed to be and tried to keep his hands off his cock as much as possible, lest he gave in to an impromptu wank at the mere memory of Merlin’s dick.

Merlin, bastard that he was, took his sweet time with breakfast. He swilled his tea around and picked up crumbs of pastry with his thumb, licking them off as Arthur looked on. It felt like an age before he finally stood up and looked towards the bedroom.

“Coming?”

Arthur had only pulled on jogging bottoms and a t-shirt, not even bothering with underwear. He didn’t know if Merlin would make him stay dressed awhile like last night but Merlin was tugging his shirt off almost the second they got inside. He backed Arthur against the wall and splayed one possessive hand across his chest before moving in for a kiss.

“Is this okay?” he whispered in Arthur’s ear. “Me bossing you around?”

“God, yes,” Arthur said with feeling. “More than okay.”

“Good,” Merlin said and nipped at Arthur’s ear. “Get on your knees.”

Arthur sank down without a second thought. Merlin peeled off his shirt, giving Arthur a gloriously unobstructed view of his chest in broad daylight. He was very slim (and if Arthur had his way, he’d be feeding him up the second Mojo finished) and his nipples were perked up already, pale and pink and lovely. Arthur didn’t have long to let his eyes linger, as Merlin reached down and stepped out of his jeans and boxers in one swift movement.

 _Fuck_. Merlin’s cock was just a thing of beauty. Arthur longed to swallow it down whole but he forced himself to wait, wanting Merlin to give the order.

Merlin smiled, letting his fingers trail across Arthur’s cheek.

“So good for me,” he said softly.

His cock was already hardening a little and he fondled it, before bringing it forward to brush against Arthur’s lips. Arthur could feel his pulse racing and he closed his eyes for a second, desperate to keep in control for a little longer.

He heard a crackle and looked up to see Merlin unwrapping a condom. A tiny part of Arthur wanted to say no, they didn’t need one, but he knew that was foolishness. Maybe someday soon, if they both got tested...

Merlin stroked himself lazily a few times before rolling the condom onto his cock. Then he pushed his thumb into Arthur’s mouth and let him suck on it a little, smiling.

“Alright. Open your mouth,” Merlin said and Arthur did. He eased himself a little way inside, instructing Arthur not to lick or suck until his say so. The feel of Merlin’s cock of his tongue, hot and heavy, was one thing. The unexpected coolness of the barbell was another, he could feel it even through the condom. Arthur was hardening in his jogging bottoms, already overwhelmed. But he waited, patiently, not moving a muscle.

“Okay,” Merlin said and Arthur immediately moved his tongue, licking a long stripe along the underside of Merlin’s cock.

Merlin’s hands came down to settle in his hair.

“Get me wet,” he said and Arthur began to suck in earnest. It had been a while and he choked for a second before he found his rhythm. Merlin had paused, clearly concerned, but he relaxed again as Arthur began to roll his tongue around Merlin’s shaft before taking a little more into his mouth. The piercing was a strange and excellent addition to the experience, an unexpected new sensation every time Arthur tongued it.

Merlin’s hands tightened in Arthur’s hair, gently tugging at the back.

“Your mouth… fuck…”

Arthur swirled his tongue again and Merlin groaned, pulling his hair.

“You’re too much, I can’t…”

Arthur released his cock with a soft pop, his own erection straining in his trousers.

“Bed. Now.”

Merlin pulled Arthur to his feet and then in for a filthy kiss. They stumbled over to the bed like that, kissing whatever part of each other they could reach; cheeks and necks and ears. Arthur wanted to put his mouth on every part of Merlin’s body, to find out what he tasted like all over. He nipped at Merlin’s ears, loving the way they were both pink with arousal, and then bit gently at the curve of Merlin’s neck.

“Arthur,” Merlin moaned out and then he pushing Arthur to lie back on the bed, his cock hard and heavy between them.

“How do you want to-“

“Like this,” Arthur said, raising his knees towards his chest and Merlin’s breathing quickened.

“Yes,” he said and grabbed a bottle of lube from the bedside drawer, squeezing some out onto his hands. Then he knelt up between Arthur’s opened legs and pressed a kiss to his inner thigh.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he said, waiting for Arthur to nod before he moved again. One slick finger came to rest against Arthur’s hole and Arthur shivered. Then Merlin was pushing inside, slow and careful, one hand reaching up to pet Arthur’s cock.

He worked Arthur open with great care, pausing often to kiss whatever body part was closest, giving Arthur plenty of time to adjust to the stretch. Arthur was glad, even though it hadn’t been as long for this as it had for sucking cock. Both he and Mithian were into pegging. But it was always different with a new partner and he liked the fact that Merlin was taking his time.

After a while though, Arthur was impatient.

“Ready now,” he moaned out when Merlin was three fingers deep, and thrust his hips up a little.

Merlin took a deep breath.

“You’ll be the death of me,” he muttered and then pulled his fingers out with a slick pop. He climbed up to kiss Arthur on the mouth and then lined himself up.

“You ready?”

“Yeah.”

Merlin was well lubed and Arthur was well stretched but there was still that funny little moment when it was more painful than pleasurable. It passed, very quickly. Merlin gave Arthur’s cock a quick stroke as he bottomed out and then held steady.

“Move,” Arthur said, sensing Merlin wanted vocal approval on this one.

Move Merlin did. He started out almost unbearably slow until Arthur was scrabbling at the sheets beneath him, begging Merlin to go a little faster. Merlin obliged, speeding up his thrusts until Arthur felt the familiar buzz inside him as Merlin hit the same spot several times in a row.

“God, yes,” he whimpered and Merlin seemed to understand, picking up the pace a little more.

Suddenly Merlin grabbed Arthur’s leg and pushed it forward, changing his angle to thrust in deeper. Arthur practically saw stars for second and cried out. Was it his imagination or could he actually feel Merlin's piercing inside him?

He was so close, he just needed Merlin to keep going exactly like that, he just needed to get his hand on his cock…

Merlin pushed Arthur’s hand out of the way and replaced it with his own, keeping his other arm hooked under Arthur’s leg. He squeezed Arthur’s cock for a second and then gave it a long stroke.

“Please,” Arthur sobbed out.

Merlin thrust in hard and jerked Arthur’s cock simultaneously. That was all Arthur needed, he tipped over the edge with a shout, cock pulsing as his orgasm surged through him.

It was so good, so intense. Arthur found himself panting for breath, as drained as if he’d run a marathon. He flopped a little, letting Merlin manhandle him onto his side a bit as he thrust, enjoying the heady sensation of being fucked past orgasm. It wasn’t more than a minute later before Merlin followed him over the edge, calling out Arthur’s name as he collapsed onto his chest.

They lay like that for quite some time, both too fucked out to move. Eventually Merlin shifted a little and reached down, carefully holding the condom as he pulled out. Arthur felt a little twinge and then an emptiness and he reached out blindly for Merlin.

“I’m here. Wait, let me get-”

Merlin was only gone a few moments, returning with a wet washcloth. He cleaned Arthur off, as careful and tender as he had opened him up before. Then he wiped himself down before collapsing back onto the bed.

Arthur manoeuvred himself into Merlin’s arms, letting his head rest against Merlin’s chest. Merlin kissed the top of his head and then stroked through his hair.

“Thank you,” he mumbled.

Arthur thought for a moment and then started to laugh.

“Are you thanking me for sex?”

“What?” Merlin said. “It’s the polite thing to do!”

“Oh my God.”

“You’re just an ingrate.”

Arthur turned his face to Merlin’s stomach, rubbing the stubble on his chin there until Merlin creased up in laughter.

“Thank you for having sex with me, Merlin. It was very nice. I hope we can do it again sometime soon.”

“That’s more like it. And you’re damn right we’ll be doing it sometime soon,” Merlin said, settling back on the pillow.

“Is that a promise?” Arthur said, wriggling up to lie beside him.

“That’s a promise,” Merlin said, and sealed it with a kiss.

 

 

[](http://imgur.com/YXqYTwd)

[](http://imgur.com/k0U9Msj)

[](http://imgur.com/D9HqETl)

[](http://imgur.com/emgO0yG)

“Stop looking at that shit,” Merlin said fondly, grabbing Arthur's phone.

“But someone said I wasn’t good enough for you!”

“How right they were.”

Arthur reached out to bat at Merlin but he ducked back, laughing, and nearly careened into a crowd of German tourists.

It was December 23rd, the day of the last Mojo performance. Snow had fallen during the night and lay heavy on the ground as Arthur and Merlin made their way to the theatre. They’d gone Christmas shopping in town before walking to the Dragon, and they’d seen the best that London’s decorations had to offer. It had been sad to pass on the mulled wine on Southbank (“Do you want to fall offstage on our final night, Arthur?”) but they’d sampled some stollen and listened to carollers of varying degrees of quality as they’d wandered alongside the river.

Arthur was unthinkably, embarrassingly happy. He couldn’t stop grinning at Merlin, the way his ears were pink beneath his purple bobble hat, the silly reindeer scarf he’d insisted on wearing (he’d made Arthur don a hideous penguin number too), and his bright excited smile as he pointed out the Christmas lights.

“Sure I can’t persuade you to have Christmas here in London with us?”

“My mum would kill me! You’ll understand when you’ve spent more time around her, she’s a total ogre.”

Arthur laughed, not because he believed for one second that the sweet gentle woman he’d met on press night was an ogre. But because Merlin had said Arthur would be spending more time with her like it was a given. As though there could be no doubt that they would be in it for the long haul.

He hoped they would. It was early days yet but there was just something about Merlin. They fitted together, like two puzzle pieces. He wanted them to stay that way.

They made it to theatre just in time for the warm up. The mood was both buzzy and nostalgic, everyone feeling a little blue that the run was at an end. Even Will and Arthur had patched up their differences. The Monday after the rehearsal where they’d fought, Will cornered Arthur and asked for help running the ‘bad dreams’ scene. He said he felt he wasn’t hitting the emotional tenor right, that it was one of Potts’ only serious parts in the play and he wanted to slow it down a little.

They practiced it for half an hour and managed to come up with something better on both sides. Will thanked him at the end and then said, in his gruff, blunt way: “Sorry I was a prick. Won’t happen again.”

“Sorry about nearly hitting you,” Arthur said and Will puffed up his chest a little.

“Nah, you’d have never been able to actually land one on me.”

This, Arthur was prepared to concede. After that, they were friends. Or at least allies against Merlin, who was most put out to find Will sharing all of Merlin’s embarrassing drama school moments with Arthur on a regular basis.

It was good to get along with everyone on the show, and Arthur was going to miss them. He was looking forward to a bit of a holiday but he was sad to see the play end. But it wouldn’t be his last experience with the theatre, he had sworn that to himself. He was going to banish the ghost of Agravaine du Bois once and for all, replace all the memories of him with new ones of success and happiness.

Arthur was glad that there would be some familiar faces in the audience that night. Leon was out in the stalls, sat with Morgana, and his father had come along for the fifth time. Arthur had actually taken Merlin round to Sunday lunch at Uther’s the week before, which had been quite an experience. It had been half an hour of awkward pauses until the conversation turned to silent films and each discovered the other to be a fan. Then it was Buster Keaton versus Charlie Chaplin, and the new cut of Metropolis, and various other topics that left Arthur cold but warmed him thoroughly inside to see his father and his boyfriend getting on so well.

He looked around the dressing room as George popped his head in for the fifteen minute call. Gwaine was showing Mordred some comedy video on YouTube. Aglain had just finished signing the present they’d all got for Gwen, a beautiful old grounds plan of the Globe theatre, where she would be directing her next play (an Aphra Behn, as it happened). Merlin and Will were having an increasingly ill-tempered discussion on contemporary theatre. Gwen and Freya entered the dressing room just as Will uttered the immortal line:

“Oh yeah? Well Simon Stephens can suck my dick!”

“I’m sure he’ll be thrilled by the offer,” Gwen said dryly. “Is everyone decent?”

“As decent as I ever get,” Gwaine said with a wink and everyone groaned.

“Good, because I just wanted to say one final good luck, not that you need it. And thank you, all of you, because this has been one of the best directing experiences I’ve ever had. I threw a lot at you and you rose to every challenge, I literally couldn’t be prouder. So get out there and give ‘em a last night to remember.”

Freya was more succinct in her speech.

“We fucking did it, guys!” she shouted, to a chorus of cheers.

Arthur lingered back as everyone piled out of the dressing room. Merlin was giving his quiff one last comb in the mirror, the motion familiar to Arthur after seeing it so many times.

“Can’t wait to stop using all this product in my hair,” he said.

“I kinda like it. Or at least I like helping you get it off in the shower later.”

“That’s not the only thing you like getting off,” Merlin said, with a wink filthy enough to rival one of Gwaine’s.

“Guilty as charged,” Arthur said and couldn’t resist pulling Merlin in for a kiss.

“Watch it!” Merlin said but he leaned in anyway. “You want Skinny showing up onstage all swollen lipped?”

“Yes. Then everyone out there will know you’re mine,” Arthur said.

Merlin laughed.

“Is this Arthur or Baby talking?”

“Bit of both,” Arthur said and then straightened Merlin’s shirt.

“Well, then. Ready, Baby?”

“Yes. Ready, Skinny?”

“Yep.”

“Let’s do this then.”

And out they went, hand in hand.

**Author's Note:**

> Important disclaimer: Simon Stephens is married with three kids and likely has no interest in sucking Will's dick. Happy holidays!


End file.
